I visited with my mom the other day. She is 88 years old. I asked her what she remembered about becoming a first-time mother.
I had just come back from helping my daughter, who recently gave birth to a baby girl, her first child. Caring for my newborn granddaughter, changing her diaper, soothing her when she fussed, brought back powerful memories of my own introduction to motherhood. I was curious how my mom remembered her early days after her firstborn, my older brother Steven, arrived.
Mom gave birth to Steven in an Air Force hospital in Wichita Falls, Texas in 1955. When I asked her how she felt at the time, she responded, with some hesitancy, “I was frightened.”
I was surprised by Mom’s response, and, at the same time, I wasn’t. If asked how I felt upon being released from the hospital in 1987 with my newborn daughter I would have said, ‘Terrified.’
We don’t usually admit to those feelings. We are supposed to be overjoyed. For me, at least in the beginning, the fear outweighed the joy. It felt like such a huge responsibility; one I had no previous training to take on. I felt woefully inadequate.
Mom went on to tell me a story, one I had heard before, but was eager to hear again. Before they sent her home, the nurse showed her how to diaper the baby and gave her other instructions. While explaining, the nurse took Steven by his feet and flipped him over on the bed! He appeared unfazed by the motion, he landed safely. “He isn’t as fragile as you think,” the nurse told my stunned mother.
It is hard to imagine a nurse doing that when I had my daughter in 1987. Though Mom took some comfort from the nurse’s demonstration, she couldn’t help but wonder about her ability to meet the needs of the tiny, living, needy creature entrusted to her care.
In the 1950s women were not encouraged to breast feed. My brothers and I were bottle-fed formula from the get-go. During that recent conversation Mom told me the idea of nursing made her uncomfortable, she didn’t consider the possibility. Since bottle-feeding was the norm in that era, I don’t think she felt any guilt. When I became a mom, it was expected that you breastfed. It was assumed that unless you were physically unable to, you did it. I could be remembering wrong – it is possible it wasn’t quite that black and white, but that was my perception. I received some guidance from the nurse while I was in the hospital to get me started, and fortunately, I was able to successfully do it without much physical complication. That doesn’t mean there weren’t other complications. I remember being exhausted, on the edge of depletion. It seemed as soon as I finished a feeding it was time to do it again.
My husband and I decided, after two weeks, to introduce a bottle of formula so that he could take a middle of the night feeding. Despite hearing something about ‘nipple confusion,’ we decided to risk it for my sanity. Though I believed we did the right thing for us, I didn’t widely share our approach given the prevailing attitudes of the day.
I don’t recall getting much guidance or support navigating these issues. In a way, I envied the fact that my mom didn’t have to deal with the question of whether to breastfeed or not. She had confidence that a formula-fed baby would be just fine. By the 1980s the decision became fraught – there are extremists (as there are about everything in our society these days) who insist that a woman must do it given the evidence that breast milk helps the baby’s immune system. It is only in the last year or two that there is recognition that we should not be so dogmatic. So many things come into play. Nursing can be unbelievably time consuming. In the first days and weeks after birth it can be every two hours, leaving little time for sleep or physical recovery. Some women experience pain or have supply issues (some women who produce milk worry ceaselessly about whether it is sufficient). Others are fortunate to find it relatively easy and experience the emotional reward of bonding with their baby – but most women I know, though they ultimately may have felt fulfilled by doing it, had a bumpy road getting there. The process can be hard without adding the collective judgment of society.
Writing this in the wake of the Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe and deprive women of their right to choose, I see a consistent theme. Women shoulder huge responsibilities in bringing forth new life, but we are not supported in that work (yes, I called it work, labor is called that for a reason).
The myriad ways in which our culture fails us is breathtaking. From inadequate access to health care (from prenatal to aftercare for mother and baby), to the history of failing to research women’s health issues, to the lack of understanding of the demands of those first few months, and finally, on a fundamental level, not valuing us, women often feel alone and overwhelmed. Though I am well past new motherhood, all of those feelings come rushing back as I watch my daughter go through it, especially in the context of the court’s repudiation of women. I feel the anxiety and weight of the responsibility in the pit of my stomach.
Being a mother is the hardest job I ever had (and still have). I believe, from what I know of my grandmothers and mother, they would agree. Our society needs to reprioritize its values. Mothering, and all forms of caretaking, must move up many rungs. It deserves better pay (sort of a joke since mothers aren’t paid, but we should assign it value). Childcare should be far more financially rewarding. But, perhaps even more than that, the work of mothering deserves more respect. Mother’s Day is a trifling excuse for the recognition that is due to those who take on the role.
It goes without saying that the government has no place in deciding whether a woman becomes one. I am well aware that some are not up to the task; all the more reason to support reproductive choice and change the way we view and assist mothers. It does take a village to raise a healthy child. When will we accept that and make policy decisions accordingly? I hope for my granddaughters’ sakes we begin the change now.
6 thoughts on “The Hardest Job”
Boy Linda, did this week’s piece resonate.
As did Feige’s response to your question.
We had our kids in roughly the same era, the late 80s. I had already talked to my OB/GYN about many things, including breastfeeding. I had no desire to do it, and wasn’t going to be guilted into doing it, no matter what the le leche league said. He laughed when I said that and informed me there were plenty enough nutrients in the formula he recommended for our baby. Which didn’t stop well meaning nurses from visiting my hospital room trying to change my mind. So from the get-go Ira, my Dad and any friend or family member who came to visit could help with feedings so I could catch up on sleep. And that was the pattern with Jake and Zach as well.
Could not agree more with the way women in this country are unsupported when it comes to reproductive choices and are getting closer to a time when we are completely denied bodily autonomy when it comes to what our choices are, thanks to the unacceptable decision SCOTUS made this week.
We have had reproductive freedom our entire lives. The idea that might be compromised for our kids’ generation is horrifying. Grateful to live in a blue state.
Good for you, Mary! I admire your choice (love that word!). Thank you for sharing. And, I too am grateful to live in a blue state – and my granddaughters currently live in blue states, as well. But that should not be necessary. They should be free to live anywhere in this great country and still have bodily autonomy.
Boy oh boy, excellent piece, excellent thoughts. It resonates with me on so many levels.
In 1982 I was determined to breastfeed, not only for my daughter but also for financial reasons. Let’s just say the first month was traumatic! We finally got there, thanks to an experienced friend who stopped by and saw what a wreck I was. Support at that time was more in the form of browbeating from nurses and breastfeeding consultants.
Motherhood seems to me to often be largely about being unseen. The court decision reinforced that notion as being acceptable to society’s detriment- as all of our problems are about, created by, and involving people. No one has more influence and burden than mothers.
Thank you for sharing.
This is one powerful and in many ways heartbreaking blog post. Your description of feeling so alone is just so sad, so cruel. There you are, surrounded by loving and well meaning family. Except everyone is busy and exhausted already. And society does so little to support new mothers and young families. At least there is now more parental leave and at least that typically includes even some leave for fathers.
But the overwhelming reality is that most of the solitary and completely overwhelming challenge that new mothers face is lonely and frightening. And I could not agree more that the lessons our society has been giving to women are more about not being valued than about having worth; having a voice.
I wish we were better learners.
Me too! Thank you for your support.